Fort Worth daily gazette. (Fort Worth, Tex.) 1882-1891, 1887-05-09

John Wesley. What is true of the pulpit
is true of the pew; is true of the street,
il is true of the shop, and the store. All
Who will live godly in Christ Jesus must
! suffer persecution.
| And l set il down as the very worst
| sign in all your Christian experience il
| you are, any of you, at peace with all the
world. The religion of Christ is war. II
| is challenge to "the world, the flesh and
the DEVIL" and if you will buckle on The
whole armor of God, you will find or, at
| host disputing your path between this
| and heaven. But what are you to do
| when you are assaulted and
| slandered and abused, as l suppose
nearly all of you have been in your lie?
| Go out and hunt up the slanderer? Oh,
| no, silly man. While you are explain 1g
| away falsehood in one place, fifty 60
| pie will just have heard of it in otner
| places. l )unsel you to another course.
While you are not to omit any opportu-
| nifty Of setting yourselves right, l want to
tell you this morning of one who had the
hardest things said about Him, whose
sobriety was disputed, whose mis- ion was
secuted, whose Companionship was de-
nounced, who was pursued as q babe and
spit upon as a man. who was hoWled at
after He was dead. will have you 60
unto Him with your bruised soul, in some
humble, child prayer, saying: 81 see
thy Wound5-wounds of head, wounds of
feet, wounds of heart. Now, look at my
wounds and see what have suffered, and
through what battles l am going; and 1
entreat Thee, by those wounds of
Thine, sympathize with me-" And He
will sympathiZe, and He will help.
GO AND TELL JESUS.
Again, l commend the behavior of the
disciples to all VINO may have been be-
reaved. How many in gsrb of mourning
If you could stand at this point where I
am standing and look off upon this
audience, how many signals of sorrow
you would behold. God has His own
way of taking apart family. We must
get out of the way for coming genera
tons. We must get off the stage that
others may come on, and for this reason
there is long procession reaching down
all the time into the valley of shadows.
This emigration from time into eternity
is so vast an enterprise that we cannot
understand it. Every hour we hear the
clang of the sepulChral gate. The sod
must be broken. The ground must be
ploWed for resurrection harvest
Eternity must be peopled. The
dust must press our eyelids.
cit is appointed unto all men once to
die" This emigration from time into
eternity keeps three-fourths of the famil-
les of the earth in desolation. The air
is rent with fareWells, and the black tas-
selled vehicles of death rumble through
every street.
The body of the child that was folded
so closely to the mothers heart is put
away in the cold and in the darkness. The
Laughter freezes to the girls lip, and the
rose scatters. The boy in the harvest
field of Shunam says: "My head! my
head" and they carry him home to die
on the lap of his mother. WIdoWhood
stands with tragedies of woe struck into
the pallor of the cheek. Orphanage cries
IN vain for father and mother. Oh, the
grave is cruel! With teeth of stone. it
clutches for its prey. Between the clos
ing gates of the sepulchre, our hearts are
mangled and crushed. Is there
any earthly solece? None.
We come to the obsequies,
we sit with the grief-strlcken, we talk
patheticrlly to their soul; but soon the
obsequies have passed, the carriages have
left us at the door, the friends who stayed
few days are gone, and the heart sits in
desolation listening for the little feet that
will never again patter through the hall,
or looking for the entrance Of those who
will never come Administering into the
darkness-eVer and anon coming across
some book or garment, or little shoe or
picture, that arouses former association,
almost killing the heart.
Long days and nights of suffering that
wear out the spirit, and expunge the
bright lines of life, and give haggsrdness
to the face, and draw the flesh tight
down over the cheek bone, and draw
dark lines under the sunken eye, and the
hand is tremulous, and the voice is
husky and uncertain, and the grief is
wearing, grinding, accommodating, ex-
hausting.
Now, what are such to do? Are they
merely to look up into brezen and I'M
plying heaven? Are they to walk
blasted heath unted of stream, unshel-
tered by oVerarching tree? Has God
turned US out on the barren common to
die? Oh, no! no! no! He has not. He
comes with sympathy and kindness and
love. He understands all our grief. He
oCSo UuC ACISutj anu GuS uGpGu3 anu G0G
length, and the breadth of it. He is the
only one that can fully sympathize. Go
and tell Jesus. Sometimes when we
have trouble we 60 to our friends and we
explain it, and they try to sympathize;
but they do not understand it, They
cannot understand it. But Christ sees
all over it, and all through it. He not
only counts the tears and records the
groans, but before the tears started,
before the groans began, Christ saw
THE INMOsT HIDING PLACE
of your sorrow; and He takes it, ana He
weighs it, and He measures it, and He
pities it with an all-absorbing pity. Bone
of our bone. Flesh of our flesh. Heart
OF our heart. Sorrow of our sorrow.
AS long as he remembers Lazarus's
grave He will stand by you in the Gene
terry. As long as He remembers His own
heart break, He will stand by you in the
laceratlon of your affections. When He
forgets the foOt-sore way, the sleepless
re- fhn